


Ashes to Ashes

by Meginoi (Delirious99)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ashes to Ashes BBC, M/M, back in time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 22:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious99/pseuds/Meginoi
Summary: My name is Roman Price. I was shot and found myself in 1981. Is it real? Or in my mind? Either way, I have to solve the mystery of what all this means and fight to get home.Inspired by the BBC Show Ashes to Ashes





	Ashes to Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message me on tumblr! You can find me under the username Meginoi

The London rush hour traffic had always made Roman grind his teeth. The endless beeping of horns was an incessant noise he couldn’t stand. There was always some hold up, and there was always someone who thought it could be fixed by sounding their car horn every five seconds. Roman sighed, in London, every morning was Monday morning.

He gripped the steering while tightly, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. The minutes ticking by on the car’s LCD screen as the radio host indistinctly chattered away did nothing to ease his rising level of stress. It was mornings like this that made him question why he didn’t just choose to take the tube like most commuters.   
  
But that was a question he already knew the answer to.

The police radio on the passenger seat crackled to life, jarring Roman out of his thoughts.

_“Sir, we have officers at a hostage situation asking for you to attend, south bank, outside Tate Modern.”_

Roman’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he reached across to grab the radio. “Why me?” Hostage situations were usually a piece of cake, officers were trained to diffuse them.

_“The suspect is specifically asking for you, Sir. He won’t speak to anyone else.”_  

“Crap!” Roman cussed, running through the long list of enemies he’d made in his many years of policing. Which one had finally come back to exact their revenge? “Received. Blue lighting it, will be there in 15.”

_“Received.”_

Roman dropped the radio back onto the passenger seat before reaching into the adjacent footwell and attaching the now flashing siren light to the top of his car.

The traffic parted for him immediately, bringing a smile to his face, this was one of the many perks his job bought. The car screeched and sped forward as he slammed down the accelerator.

The south bank of London was filled with it’s normal bustle of people. Hassled police officers fought to keep a curious crowd behind the barricade tape that had been erected to cordon off the area. Many were just commuters just looking to add a bit of excitement to their usual, mundane morning.

Roman leaned forward in his seat as he scene came into view. He sighed as he reached over to grab his police issued firearm before stepping out of the car. The glock he had grabbed from the passenger seat glove compartment was securely hidden away in the holster concealed by his jacket.

The crowd eyed him curiously as he pushed his way through and ducked under the tape. The curious stares and whispers no longer bothered him, it all came part and parcel with the job. The constables on duty barely batted an eye at him as the Sergeant jogged up the steps to meet him.

“A crisis negotiator isn’t usually needed on a job like this, Harry. What’s so special about this one?” Roman asked.

“He’ll only speak to you Roman, says he has information you’d want to know.”

“Gimmie five minutes and I’ll have in handcuffs, any details I need to know?”

“Declan Reeves. He mugs a busker, she resists so he pulls a gun on her.” The following police sergeant informed him as he closed in on the two figures backed against the river barrier.

They were more discernible now, a tall man dressed in all black with a bowler hat gripped a crying young woman against his chest, definitely a busker by the smears of chalk on her shaking hands and smeared image of a forest at their feet. A pistol was pressed against the underside of her chin.

“Sounds like a ploy to get our attention. I’ll see to it.” Roman steeled himself and walked forward, allowing his friendly persona he always used in crisis negotiations to fall into place. “Declan? I’m DI Roman Price, I believed you asked for me.”

A smirk crossed Declan’s features, his eyes obscured by the rim of his tipped hat. “Little Roman Price, long time no see.”

Roman inquisitively tipped his head. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Not in a meeting that you’d remember. You’ve met my employers once before though, and my, was that a fun time!” Declan laughed. It was a deep sound, once that ignited a sense of dread that Roman quickly shook off.

“Well why don’t you let this poor lady go, we both know you don’t want to hurt her. Maybe then we can do some catching up. Y’know, you can tell me who your employers are over a coffee or something.”

“Don’t patronise me! Not if you want to know what really happened to your parents.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “What do you know about my parents?”

“More than you’d think. Little Amelia Price, an up and coming lawyer, and her police sergeant husband. And how they both died. It was so satisfying, watching them both cluelessly step onto a train that wouldn’t reach it’s destination.”

‘’Wha-what?” Roman stuttered, taking a step forward. “What did you do?”

“I’m happy, hope you’re happy too…”

Declan lunged, throwing the petrified busker to the concrete. Roman barely had time to react before an arm locked a tight grip around his neck, and the barrel of a gun pressed to his temple.

Screams of the onlookers echoed in his ears as ARV officers surged down the steps, the lasers of their rifles all pointed squarely at the now laughing offender and his new hostage.

“You don’t want to do this, Declan. These officers are itching for a fatality outcome. We can talk things through,” Roman gasped, his hands reaching up to grip around the arm that held him squarely against Declan.

“Oh, believe me, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Finish the job that they started all those years ago.”

“Who started it Declan? I thought you wanted to tell me the truth about what happened.”

“I do…but that’s not what I’ve been paid to do.”

A ear-splitting bang echoed out as the trigger was pulled, and Roman’s world went black.


End file.
